We interrupt your regularly scheduled music blog to bring you a bit of fan fiction today.  Fan non-fiction, rather, as the following story is a true tale of massive proportions.  It was originally transcribed to me in the form of a 4-part miniseries communicated via text message.  I present it to you below, unabridged, uncensored, and undeniably a modern masterpiece.  I have made minor edits to correct typos and adapt this literary gold for the immortal medium that is the Interwebs.  I present to you:

Sedgewick: My Poop, My Son

OH.  MY.  FUCKIN.  RAPEFUCKER...

I was just pooping while I had one of those urinal chills while throned and I felt a massive, sticky movement depart!  I didn't think anything of it until I stood and exchanged a loving glance with my first born - a stout 16 lb. 4 oz. Sedgewick Ickyickiooh —. (last named removed to protect the guilty)

He was fully twice the diameter of the drain and his head easily cleared the surface where many of his previously departed brethren once clamoured (sic) for air and a foothold in this life.  He was adorned with a sullied, yet dry, white paper hat that had nary a chance of finding dippy solace in its destined watery depths.

I flushed once, expecting a lengthy, emotional good-bye, but Sedgewick, with the deft of an octopus, quickly shape-shifted into the ideal shape as if he was both intimately familiar with the next leg of his journey and in wanton haste to be rid of this world and his father.

I shed a single tear as I examined the smeary remnants of a relationship ended all too fast, but I felt better after I tugged one.

The End